Love Is An Ocean (& I'm Drowning)
by Writing Sins and Tragedies
Summary: Dean Winchester is like fire: fierce, incandescent, and utterly unattainable. For those reasons (and many more), Castiel Milton is hopelessly in love with him. But Dean is straight, and even worse, his best friend. When Cas is forced to help Dean prepare for Prom with someone else, he can't help but wonder why it isn't as easy to fall out of love as it is to fall into it.


**_Author's Note: I know, I just had to write the obligatory Destiel Prom AU, didn't I? Though I know the concept is most certainly not original, I'd like to think I added my own little twists and made the story memorable. That being said, happy reading!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own these character nor the show from whence they came. I do, however, own and reserve the rights to this story._**

* * *

Before Dean, love had only been an abstract concept to Castiel. He knew of it, of course—honestly, in today's romanticizing society that practically shoves love down everyone's throat, it's kinda hard _not_ to know what love is. But before Dean, Castiel was unattached and blissfully oblivious to the passionate emotion. During his childhood, he always felt isolated from the rest of the world. Hell, even in his own family, he was considered an outsider, more content with exploring nature and its fascinating creatures alone than staying locked inside studying until his eyeballs burned (though he was forced to do the latter, too; he didn't like it, but Castiel can admit that it paid off later in life if his perfect GPA and full-ride to Stanford has anything to say about it). Before Dean, Castiel's heart was just a vital organ that circulated his blood flow and kept him alive in his own perfect world of emotionless serendipity.

But then he turned eleven and the Winchester family moved to town, and Castiel was long gone the minute the bold, charming eldest son laughed when he introduced himself and declared that he'll just call him _Cas._

And now, seven years later, he has quite a different perspective on love. Now, it is a treacherous ocean of longing and despair, and Cas is drowning—drowning in Dean's crooked grins and sideways glances, drowning in his burning green eyes and constellations of freckles, drowning until his mind is suddenly swallowed up and all he can think about is_ Dean._

Dean, whose natural charm and sinful good looks can make even angels swoon. Dean, who smells like old leather and pine aftershave. Dean, who can make Castiel smile in the way that causes his whole face to light up—in a way that no one else has been able to do before. Dean, who is quite possibly the most selfless, righteous man in the entire history of the human race

Dean, who just so happens to unknowingly break Castiel's heart for not the first time when he calls him one night and informs him that he has a date with Lisa Braeden for the Prom.

* * *

"Hey, you should come with us." Dean declares the following morning as Castiel slides into the passenger seat.

Cas cocks his head to the side in confusion as his eyes flicker from Dean to his younger brother Sam in the backseat, "I am coming with you right now."

Dean rolls his eyes with an exasperated grin on his face as he pulls out of Castiel's driveway, "No, Cas, I'm talking about Prom. You should go with Lisa and me."

Cas feels his smile dim, and he tries to hide it by turning his head to stare vacantly out the window, "That's a very thoughtful gesture, Dean, but it is unnecessary. I am perfectly content with staying home." He shrugs, bitter slightly slipping into his voice as he adds, "Besides, I don't want to be a…'third-wheel.'"

"You won't," Dean promises with a suspiciously smug grin, "Because you're getting a date. Some way or another."

Castiel turns his head and begins to protest when he sees the determined set of his best friend's shoulder and stubborn twist of his lip. He knows by those key signs of body language that any refusal whatsoever is futile. Castiel frowns and slumps his shoulders in defeat, glancing back at Sam and finding the freshman wearing a pitied, apologetic smile.

Cas returns the smile weakly before turning and resting his head on the window, closing his eyes and ignoring the ache that echoes in his chest.

* * *

"What about April?" Dean says, pointing his fork at the junior across the cafeteria, "I hear she's a kinky one in the sack. Does knife play and everything."

Castiel grimaces into his 'nutritious meatloaf,' "Weapons and meaningless intercourse are both of which I'd like to avoid, thank you; especially simultaneously."

Dean grins teasingly at him, "Aw, Virgin Mary, saving yourself for marriage?"

"I want it to mean something, Dean," Castiel tells him soberly, "I'm not like you."

"Trust me, I know," Dean assures him with an affectionate eye roll, "Honestly, Cas, you're like no one I've ever met."

Castiel tilts his head, "Insult or compliment?"

"Take it any way you want." Dean says, but the warmth in his voice makes Cas lean towards the latter of the two.

"How about Hannah?" Dean suggests relentlessly, pointedly ignoring Castiel's exasperated expression.

"As I have told you on numerous occasions, the relationship Hannah and I share is strictly platonic." Castiel says with mild frustration.

Dean scoffs and mutters, "Not by her choice, that's for sure."

"I'm going to ignore that." Castiel sighs, picking at his peas with his fork uninterestedly. Dean smirks and opens his mouth to say something when something over Castiel's shoulder catches his eye, and he breaks out into a grin. Castiel knows who it is before he even hears her voice.

"Hey Boys," Lisa Braeden greets brightly as she stands beside their table, planting a kiss on Dean's cheek and waving friendly at Castiel, "Dean tell you the big news?"

"Yes, he did," Castiel replies politely, the smile on his face as superficial as the delight in his voice, "Congratulations. You two will be the best couple there."

Lisa smiles genuinely back at him, like his half-hearted compliment truly brightened her day, "Thanks, Cas. You're coming with us, right?"

"He will," Dean answers before Castiel can even open his mouth, "Once he lowers his almighty standards and settles for one of these filthy commoners." Lisa hits his arm scoldingly, but there's still a radiant smile on her face.

Castiel suddenly loses his appetite and pushes his tray away, "I don't understand why my presence on that night is of import."

Lisa furrows her brow at his words and looks to Dean, confusion painted on her face, "I thought you said he wanted to come."

Dean rolls his eyes and waves his hand in dismissal, "He will. Eventually."

"Dean, if he doesn't want to go, you shouldn't make him." Lisa tells him sternly, and Castiel really hates her for being so likable, so deserving of Dean. He wants to make her a villain of some sort, the evil Succubus that takes advantage of his best friend and plays with his feelings. He wishes she wasn't the nicest girl he's ever met; he wishes she wasn't Dean's true love; he wishes he wasn't the pathetic, pining nobody who was stupid enough to fall for his straight best friend.

But wishes are like dreams: meaningless, especially if they're as intangible as Castiel Milton's.

"Lisa, I know what's best for Cas," Dean says with a tight smile, a hint of hostility in his sharp voice, "He's _my_ best friend, not yours. So _kindly_ keep your opinion to yourself."

"Dean." Castiel scolds as Lisa's posture suddenly straightens and her face hardens.

"Fine, whatever," She says, her voice thickening with emotion, "Talk to me when you're finished being an ass." She looks over at Cas and smiles weakly, whispering, "Bye, Cas." He waves at her as she turns and stalks away, causing Dean to slump in his seat and rub a hand over his face.

"Dean, that wasn't very kind of you." Castiel says, causing Dean to sigh and shrug.

"She doesn't understand," Dean fumes, running a hand through his hair, "She never does."

"Doesn't understand what?"

"Everything!" He says, "She doesn't understand why she can't put her feet up on my dashboard. She doesn't understand why I have to eat a slice of pie at least once a week or else I'll begin struggling from withdraw. She doesn't understand why I have to put Sammy before everything else in my life, including _myself._ She doesn't understand that I probably won't have fun at that stupid Prom without my best friend there to make fun of everyone on the dance floor with. She just doesn't _get it,_ you know?"

Cas tilts his head, "You can't expect a person to completely understand you."

Dean huffs and locks gazes with him, pointing out quietly, "You do."

Castiel swallows hard and averts his gaze, "That's different."

"How?"

_Because I've loved you the longest and spent most of our friendship memorizing you body and soul._

"Because we're best friends," Castiel answers weakly, "I'm supposed to understand you."

Dean runs a hand through his hair again and sighs, "Damn, Cas, sometimes I wish you were a girl."

_Me too,_ he thinks glumly, _maybe then you'd be able to love me._

"Think I should apologize to her?" Dean asks, casting his gaze over at Lisa's lunch table.

Castiel sighs, "You should do what you feel is best, Dean. But I do advise for you to think hard about the repercussions of snapping at her. Next time, she might call off your date to the Prom."

"Yeah, don't want that to happen." Dean says, and if he sounds a little too insincere, Castiel is too loyal to comment on it.

Cas watches Dean reluctantly stand up and slink over to Lisa, wondering why life has to be this hard.

* * *

Crowley corners him by his locker later that day, his wicked smirk and mischievous eyes enough to make Castiel's stomach twist with suspicion.

"What do you want?" Cas asks flatly, not even bothering to cast him a glance as he switches his books out for his next period.

"Now, now, Cassie. No need to play hard to get." Crowley purrs, causing Castiel to pause and narrow his eyes at him.

"I heard about your little…dilemma," He continues, "I've come to offer you a deal."

"Not interested," Castiel refuses immediately, slamming his locker shut, "A deal with you is like a deal with the devil."

"This one's simple," Crowley assures him, "No tricks, I promise."

Castiel debates just walking away now, but his curiosity gets the better of him, "You have less than a minute to introduce your proposal. Starting now."

"Castiel Milton," Crowley begins sweetly with a teasing twist in his lip, "Will you go to the Prom with me?"

Castiel doesn't know whether to laugh in his face or puke on his shoes.

"Why would you want to go to Prom with _me_?" Castiel demands, "You hate me."

"Correction," Crowley says, raising a finger, "I hate your sickening attachment and school boy crush on Dean Winchester."

"I do not have a cr—"

"You can play dumb to the squirrel but not to me," Crowley informs him flatly, "I know you, Cassie. We were somewhat friends once upon a time, remember? Before Dean decided to keep you all to himself."

"You sent your dogs after him," Castiel points out bitterly, "He thinks you're psychotic, Crowley. And I don't blame him."

Crowley nods and tilts his head to the side, his gaze burning into Castiel's with the kind of intensity that makes his stomach flip, "You haven't directly answered yet, Angel. Should I take that as a yes?"

Cas hates himself for hesitating even a second before answering firmly, "No. Thanks for the offer though. I know you had the _purest_ intentions."

"Fine, be alone and miserable!" Crowley calls after him as Cas turns and stalks away to his classroom, "I don't give a rat's ass. And evidentially, neither does Squirrel!"

* * *

"Crowley asked me to Prom." Castiel says as some form of greeting as he flops into his seat next to Meg Masters.

The brunette looks up from her phone and arches an eyebrow, "Did you deck him in the nuts?"

"No, I politely refused." Cas answers with a shrug.

Meg shrivels her nose up, "Boring."

"Why would he do that though?" Castiel fumes, "Did Dean send him over or—"

Meg interrupts him with an amused snort, "Trust me, Clarence, Dean-o would never do that. He hates that douche almost as much as I do."

"But we haven't spoke in over two years," Cas persists, "Why the sudden interest, if Dean didn't pay him off?"

"It's simple," Meg states with a shrug, "He wants to piss Dean off."

"Well, the opposite would have happened," Cas murmurs, "Dean's been trying to get me a date all day. He'd be over the moon if I actually found someone."

"Okay, how do I explain this?" Meg mumbled to herself with an exasperated sigh before clearing her throat and beginning slowly, "Clarence, I love you, but I gotta let you in on a little secret: Here in this school, you are known as one thing, and that is Dean Winchester's property."

Castiel stares at her in revulsion, "I am _not_—"

"So by Crowley taking you to Prom, he's basically pissing all over something of Dean Winchester's." Meg continues, ignoring his protests, "That, of course, is too delicious of an opportunity for Crowley to waste."

"I am just Dean's best friend," Cas says quietly, "I am not his property nor his…well, you know."

"That may be true," Meg says, "But that's not by choice."

Castiel thinks she's talking about him and his hopeless infatuation on the most unattainable man in Lawrence, Kansas.

She's not.

* * *

At the end of the day, Castiel stands at the Impala with Sam patiently, idle chitchat passing between them as they wait for Dean.

"You don't have to go, you know," Sam says with a shrug, peering up at him, "Dean will understand. He's just…stubborn about these sort of things."

"Thank you for the concern, Sam," Castiel responds with a sober nod, "I believe our difference of opinion on Prom will not alter our friendship whatsoever."

"You do know why he wants you to go, right?" Sam blurts out almost anxiously, his gaze flickering around warily as if afraid his words have been heard by outside ears.

Castiel tilts his head, narrowing his gaze at the younger boy, "I don't know what you mean."

Sam rolls his eyes, grumbling, "You two are both completely _clueless._"

Cas furrows his brow, but before he can request for Sam to clarify his declaration, he catches sight of Dean storming towards the Impala.

…Yes, _storming_ is the correct term. His thunderous expression and clenched fists only add to his demeanor of outright fury.

"Where've you been?" Sam asks as Dean swings the car door open and piles inside.

"Doesn't matter. Get in the car." Dean answers curtly, refusing to meet either's gaze. Cas and Sam exchange a significant look before reluctantly complying to his demand, both silent in their confusion and desire to know what ruffled Dean's feathered so severely.

Whatever it is, Dean isn't in the mood to talk about it. He turns up the music and drowns out any half-hearted attempt at conversation.

* * *

"Sam, you can go on in," Dean says as he parks into the Winchester driveway, "Cas and I will be there in a minute."

Sam's suspicious green eyes flickers between Castiel and his brother before he mutters "About time" and slides out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him as he walks calmly into the house.

Castiel swallows hard and pins his gaze on Dean, who stubbornly keeps his eyes locked on the steering wheel. Finally, when the silence starts to stretch thin, Cas sighs and states mildly, "You are angry."

"_Crowley?_" Dean hisses abruptly, finally turning his fiery gaze on his best friend, "I say to pick anyone in the school, and you choose _Crowley_?"

Castiel furrows his brow, saying slowly, "Dean, if this about Crowley asking me to Prom, don't worry. I declined."

"Really?" Dean says in surprise, the tension and anger leaking out of his face at Castiel's nod, "That little shit. He told me you two were practically hitched."

"It's like he's pissing on someone else's territory." Cas says quietly, Meg's words echoing in his head.

Dean gives him an odd look, "You're not a piece of territory, Cas. Trust me, you're a lot more than that."

Cas ignores him and cocks his head, asking in curiosity, "Why were you so upset anyway? I thought you wanted me to get a date."

"Not with him," Dean answers bluntly, his face tightening at the thought, "_Anybody_ but him."

Cas smiles slightly, "So does this mean you'll finally stop trying to get me a date for an event I didn't even want to attend in the first place?"

Dean lets on a frustrated grunt and exclaims with a grin, "Fine! Suit yourself! I wave my white flag of defeat."

Castiel gives him a wry smile and an arched eyebrow, "Dean Winchester giving up? Hurry, go get the scrapbook."

Dean chuckles and elbows him in the stomach, "Asshole. C'mon, let's go. Charlie texted me and said there's a Star Trek marathon on right now."

"A wonderful way to waste the day away." Castiel agrees with a small, private smile—the kind of smile that almost Dean can conjure up with just a corny joke or ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows.

Dean clasps his back and walks with him into the house, oblivious to Castiel's bright, lovestruck gaze that burns into the side of his face.

* * *

Thankfully, after the Crowley fiasco, Dean doesn't try to set him up anymore. He doesn't, however, stop dragging Cas into issues he'd rather like to avoid for the sake of his fractured heart and dampening sanity.

"_Cas,_" Dean whines, his brow pinched and bottom lip puffed out in a way that Castiel deems _completely unfair,_ "C'mon. I don't want to go tux shopping by myself."

"Why don't you go with Lisa?" He suggests with a smile, hoping the edge in his voice is only in his head.

Dean rolls his eyes, like the very idea is ridiculous, "Because Lisa isn't my best friend."

Cas arches an eyebrow, retorting, "She's your _date."_

"Not the point," Dean says as he flops down into the seat next to him and lays his head on his shoulder in a childish manner, bargaining, "I'll buy you dinner."

Cas bites his lip and looks away, sighing out eventually, "_Fine."_

Dean's face practically lights up, "Awesome. We'll go right after school."

Cas gives him a thumbs up, "Sounds like a plan. Now can you _please_ go to class. You can't just skip class and hang out with me in study hall everyday."

"Hell yeah, I can," Dean argues, but he gets up anyway and heads to the door, "Tiger Mama likes me." _Probably because you're friends with her son,_ he thinks but Dean is already out the door before he can point that out.

When he's sure he's gone, Castiel smacks his head on his desk and groans out his despair.

"Boy trouble?" He hears Mr. Joshua say questioningly.

His voice muffled, he mumbles, "You don't even know the half of it."

* * *

"I look like the Penguin," Dean says with a crinkled nose as he steps out of the dressing room in a ruffled suit with an unknotted bow tie, "All I need is a monocle and umbrella."

Castiel doesn't respond and just stares at him, vicious, bloodthirsty butterflies festering in his stomach and tearing at his internal organs. Dean looks like he just walked out of a photo shoot—all gorgeous and flawless even in the cheap, ill-fitting suit.

When Castiel's silence becomes noticeable, Dean raises a questioning eyebrow, "You okay, Man?"

Castiel feels his Adam's apple bob as he nods hurriedly and walks towards him, "Here, let me." Before Dean can protest, Castiel steps into his personal space and knots his tie, his hands slightly trembling as he feels the other boy's hot breath on his forehead.

When he's done, Cas tries to step back and catch his breath, but his feet remain rooted to the floor. Instead, he just looks up and finds their noses only a few inches apart, close enough to feel the other's breath ghosting his lips.

Castiel swallows hard and comments hoarsely, "You look very handsome."

Dean's breath seems to stutter as he blurts out in a whisper, "So do you."

Castiel freezes and jerks back, finally breaking out of his spell and demanding, "What?"

"I said yeah, I do." Dean says louder with a forced smile, panic and something else lurking in his dark green eyes, "I'm _smoking. _Lisa won't be able to resist me."

_That sounds more like it,_ Cas thinks as the tension leaves his body, admiring the beautiful boy with anguish and longing.

"No one can resist you, Dean." He pretends to be teasing, pretends not to mean it.

He offers him a weak smile, which Dean oddly mirrors before he clasps his back and declares, "I'm gonna go pay for this monkey suit, and then we'll get something to eat. My treat."

"I'm not really that hungry, Dean." Castiel tells him, ignoring how his empty stomach screams in protest. He just wants this day to be over already. Dean doesn't understand how much this hurts him, to be constantly reminded of the fact that the only one he's ever wanted is going to be with someone else—have fun with someone else—fall in _love_ with someone else.

But Dean sees through his façade and says flatly, "We're eating at the Roadhouse. And you're ordering the juiciest cheeseburger on the menu so you won't steal off my plate anymore like last time."

Castiel doesn't protest this time, just sighing and despairing over the cruel fact:

He can never say no to Dean, and that design flaw will most likely be the death of him.

* * *

It's just one week before Prom when Dean texts him one night.

_I don't know how to slow dance. Help?_

Castiel sighs and contemplates lying and saying he has too much homework to do, but he knows that even through text, he's a horrible liar. So instead, he texts back glumly, _You can come over now._

The only reason he knows ballroom dancing is because his sister Anna pressured him into taking lessons with her when they were in junior high. Dean teased him mercilessly over it for weeks, though he still came to the recital, even going as far as to give him roses afterwards. It was obviously meant as another cheap shot at Castiel's loss of masculinity, but Cas could have sworn he thought actual sincerity was gleaming in Dean's burning emerald gaze.

He shakes the memory off as he carries his stereo downstairs and plugs in the music he and Anna rehearsed with years ago. It takes less than ten minutes for Dean to arrive, but by then, Castiel's heart is hammering in his chest. _Why am I doing this? I can't do it. I can't. I need to call it off—_

"Hey," Dean greets with a lazy smile as he walks through the front door, "You ready to dance your heart out?" Castiel almost scoffs, _if only I was that lucky._ Ignoring that thought, he presses play on the stereo, letting the soft, delicate ballad echo in the quiet house.

Dean grins widely and says, "I know this song. You _rocked_ it a few years back."

Castiel flushes and steps close to his best friend, clearing his throat and exercising his 'professional' voice, "Okay, so at first, I'm going to lead—"

"Aw man, I'm going to be the _chick_?" Dean interrupts with a complaint.

Castiel gives him a glare that shuts him up immediately before continuing, "So as the 'woman' of the pair, you'll wrap your arms around my neck…"

"Like this?" Dean says, stepping forward and sliding his hands up Castiel's chest and threading his arms around his neck.

The smooth, sensual movement makes Castiel almost gasp, but he somehow manages to smother it as he clears his throat again, "Um yes, like that. Um," He chews on his bottom lip and ignores how Dean's eyes follow the motion, "Now I put my hands on your hips, l-like this." Castiel says all in one breath, slipping his hands onto Dean's hips and absently thumbing the protruding hipbones.

Dean's breath hitches as he shivers, muttering, "I'd like for you _not_ to do that."

Cas nods and draws their bodies in to the point of touching, mechanically moving to the beat and trying to lose himself in the tune like he did with Anna. But dancing with Dean is entirely different than dancing with his sister.

Drastically.

When the song ends and another track begins, Castiel steps back and suggests breathlessly, "Switch?"

Dean's glazed eyes suddenly come into focus as he clears his throat and nods wordlessly, his calloused hands caressing Castiel's hips like one would fine china. Somewhere during the song, Cas relaxes enough to release the tension in his body, even going as far as to rest his head on Dean's broad shoulder. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, wishing that this moment actually meant something more than just a favor between friends.

Cas is so lost in his own world where no one else matters but Dean and him that he doesn't realize the song is over until Dean nudges him gently, whispering into his ear, "Cas? Y-You okay?"

"No," Cas confesses hoarsely, raising his head until their mouths are an inch apart, "I'm not."

They stay locked in this paralyzing embrace until the whole CD ends. Then Dean peels his warm arms off of Cas and practically flees the house, not even saying goodbye as he slams the door shut with a loud thud. Castiel stands there in the dark living room, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

* * *

It is Prom night, and almost every high schooler's dream is probably going to come true, whether it be slow dancing with their crush to their favorite song or getting lucky under the gym bleachers. It is Prom night, and mothers are helping daughters into their dresses and fathers are giving their daughter's dates the standard "I have a shotgun, so you better have pure intentions" speech. It is Prom night, and it's a night full of stolen kisses, caressing whispers of sweet nothings, and vain promises of forever. It is Prom night, and it is a night that everyone will remember.

It is Prom night, and Castiel Milton is at home working on his second helping of cookie dough and hopelessly pining over his straight best friend whose thoughts are probably consumed with his dastardly plot of finally getting into his date's pants. His phone beeps at his side, and Castiel makes the mistake of torturing himself further by opening the image of Lisa and Dean slow dancing sent from Meg.

_I hate you_ he texts with a hollow chest. _You want me to stop?_ she asks. Castiel pretends to think about it before pathetically replying _No. Keep me posted._

After sending the text, he drops his phone back down on the cushion and continues watching _The Notebook,_ even the sheer corniness of the movie not enough to calm the raging storm in his heart.

_He's better off,_ Cas thinks bitterly, _after all, I'm nothing compare to Lisa Braeden._ The next thirty minutes pass in a blur until he gets a text message again. _Great,_ he scoffs silently to himself as he picks his phone up, _more torment._ Instead of another picture, Meg just texted three simple words:

_Dean Winchester left._

Castiel tilts his head and calls Meg, waiting until she picks up before saying, "What do you mean? He and Lisa left before the King and Queen were announced?"

"Lisa's still here," Meg corrects him over the loud music, "It's only Dean who's left the building."

Anger grips Castiel's heart as he snaps, "You mean he left her all alone on _Prom night_? What, he find a shorter skirt to chase after?"

"I don't think so," Meg says, "Lisa doesn't look all that upset. A little bewildered and shell-shocked, yeah, but she's still dancing. She looks almost…relieved."

"Where's Dean?" He demands, worry plaguing his voice.

Meg scoffs, "I'm sure you'll find out soon." Without explaining her enigmatic comment, she hangs up.

Castiel scowls and decides to simply stay where he is and watch the movie. After all, if Dean wants to talk to him, he knows where to find him.

And find him he does.

* * *

He hears heavy pounding on the door only ten minutes later. At first, Castiel thinks the violent knocking is just thunder, but when he glances out the window and finds the Impala parked in his driveway, he realizes Dean has probably came to torture him some more. _Why won't he just have mercy on me for one night,_ he wonders heartbrokenly as he sluggishly peels himself off of the sofa and slinks over to the door.

He opens the door only to find a soaked Dean Winchester standing at his doorway with an intimidating scowl etched into his rugged features and an ocean of conflicting emotion brewing in his intense green eyes.

Castiel tilts his head to the side and opens his mouth to demand what's wrong when Dean beats him to it.

"You're ruining my life," Dean snaps thunderously, rage and hurt evident in his thick voice, "Do you realize that? Do you realize how many years I've _tried,_ Cas? How many people I've _used_ in an effort to get over you? Hell, I ruined Lisa's goddamn prom night because I was too much of a coward to ask the person I really wanted to go with."

Castiel finally finds his voice as he says quietly, "Dean, I don't understand. How did I ruin your—"

_"Because I'm in love with you!"_ Dean shouts, the loud sound of rain slapping against the pavement not enough to drown out the anger and longing that aches in his broken voice, "Because I cannot think of the ocean without thinking of your _stupid_ blue eyes; I cannot touch anyone else without wanting to feel _your_ skin under my palm; I cannot look at street lights without wondering whether I'll ever grow enough balls to kiss you under one; and I _cannot_ spend the rest of my life with someone else without always wishing it was you."

Castiel doesn't speak, doesn't think, doesn't _breathe._

Instead, he surges forward and captures Dean's lips in his own, the years of secret longing and love transforming into heated passion as he dips his tongue into Dean's mouth and moans at the heavenly taste. For the first ten seconds of the kiss, Dean is as stiff and still as a statue, but once the shock wears off, he practically _melts_ into the kiss, raising a hand to the other boy's jaw and angling it to lick lazily into his mouth.

It's the kind of kiss that makes your lungs burn because you don't quite want to pull back for air just yet. It's the kind of kiss that leaves your lips tingling and heart pounding even hours after it ended. It's the kind of kiss that offers the tentative promise of forever, and it's the kind of kiss that everyone wants to receive—especially on Prom night.

"I love you," Castiel gasps out as soon as they reluctantly pull apart, "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I will continue to love you until that love overwhelms my heart and forces it to stop beating."

"I didn't know," Dean mutters in the crook of Castiel's neck, pushing the boy back against the wall and planting wet kisses on every inch of skin available, "_Fuck,_ Cas, I didn't know."

When their desperate declaration of passion (also known as making out, if the blooming hickeys on Castiel's neck has anything to say about it) is over, Dean laughs and says hopefully, "Can I come in? Being in the freezing cold with a boner isn't very comfortable."

Castiel smiles and nods, leading him into the living room and turning the television off. Dean quirks an eyebrow at Castiel's mischievous smile, but his face soon dawns with realization when the other boy walks over and turns on the stereo, the cheesy song embarrassingly describing the love that soars in their hearts.

Dean bows to Cas and offers his hand, saying, "My Angel, may I have this dance?"

"I don't know," Castiel teases with feigned indifference, "I'm trying to keep my options open."

"Asshat." Dean grumbles before pulling Cas into his arms, letting the boy rest his head on his chest as they gently sway to the soft beat.

Maybe those teenagers are onto something. Maybe Prom does have the possibility of being the best night of your life.

(Until your wedding, of course, but Cas thinks they're too young to be thinking of that yet).

* * *

**_Author's Note: I put a lot of effort into this story, so if you could take a little time to follow/favorite/review, I'd sincerely appreciate it._**


End file.
